


Hail To The Queen

by BelleWrites (sunleyemrys)



Series: A Hawke and Her Wolf [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Battle, duels, nearly dying, not today asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 09:26:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15409890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunleyemrys/pseuds/BelleWrites
Summary: Marian's legendary battle VS the Arishok.





	Hail To The Queen

“I’m not giving you Isabela.” Marian was firm, icy gaze meeting the Arishok’s. “you have your stupid book. Nothing is keeping you here.”

He fumed, “duty keeps me here. Justice keeps me here. That Vashedan bitch keeps me here.” He thrust a finger at Isabela.

“And she will be judged for her actions, but she is not a part of the Qun. You have no authority here.” Hawke got in his face, short hair sticking up from dried sweat and blood. “Get out of my city before I throw you out.”

Fenris stepped forward, “he demands justice. Has Hawke not earned your respect Arishok? You could duel her, allow the Qun to decide the thief’s fate.” Shocked expressions met the elf’s face and Marian crossed the floor to his side.

“Are you fucking joking? Do you not see how big he is?!” She shook Fenris. “He will eat me alive you moron!” She continued to yell as the massive Qunari considered his options.

A loud thump brought the attention of the room back onto the Arishok. “The elf is correct. The Hawke has earned my respect. I accept the challenge. To the death.”

Marian punched Fenris in the shoulder, “fuck.” She drew her staff, taking a deep breath.

“If I die, I’m coming back and haunting you.” She shot at the elf, who simply nodded.

“That is fair.” He stepped back, leaning against a wall, arms crossed.

She looked up as the Arishok approached, drawing two massive blades from his back. “Not if, when I die.” Marian muttered casting Rock Armor around her body.

The first swing of the axe came faster than she expected, and edge of the blade threw her across the marble floor. Marian planted her staff to stop her slide, calling Tempest, creating a lightning storm inside the throne room. Several bolts hit the Qunari, staggering him and she took the opportunity to dash around him, throwing a Stonefist into his spine.

He whirled, the tip of his sword catching her hip, sending Marian into a wall as she tried to dodge away. She could feel the slice through her armor, blood seeping into the leather. “Damn.” She considered downing a potion, but he charged, blades cutting through the air.

She ducked, rolling under the sword, striking with the hard wood of her staff against his shins. The Arishok yelled in pain and rage as she slapped her hand onto the floor, Pull of the Abyss slowing him down turning his scream into one of frustration.

“Not use to fighting a mage, are you?” She taunted, dancing away from his blades, bolts of magic flashing from the end of her staff.

He snarled, “You are nothing but a saarebas. Needing a collar. Needing chains.” The spell faded, and he surged forward, weapons clashing against her staff as she struggled to hold him back. “You need to be tamed.”

Her staff began to splinter, and she dropped a hand, casting Telekinetic Burst, throwing them apart. “The hell I do.” She tossed the broken pieces of her staff aside, firming up her Rock Armor and drawing her belt dagger.  “Try and tame me you bastard.”

Marian charged forward, throwing a Glyph of Repulsion under her feet as she leapt over his shoulder, turning in the air to sink her blade into his shoulder, her fingers grabbing a handful of his hair. The Arishok roared, backpedalling to slam against a pillar. The air left her lungs with a grunt and a loud crack; she let go her dagger and his hair, sliding to the ground in a slump.

He loomed over her, his sword raised to deliver the final blow. “There is no taming one such as you, death is the only option.”

“Fuck that.” Marian snorted, calling up her failing mana and hitting the Qunari with Petrify. She scrambled away and toward Fenris. “Your sword! Gimmie!” The tattooed elf drew his sword, holding out the handle for her to grab as she ran by.

The stone surrounding the Arishok shattered and he rushed toward her, throwing his axe with surprising accuracy, catching her on the left side of her back. She went down, the big sword skittering away from her grip. Marian couldn’t stand, the pain was too much, she couldn’t flee, tears burned hot in her eyes, matching the fire in her back.

Stomping footsteps shook the ground as Marian struggled to move. “Where is your chaos now? Only the Qun can control the dangerous beings. And the Qun demands you die.” He braced a foot on the back of her thighs, wrenching the weapon free as she screamed. He grabbed the back of her robes, yanking her to her feet, her whimpers falling on deaf ears. He twisted her around, holding her aloft, the tip of his sword parting her ruined armor as he drove the blade through her stomach.

She could feel herself dying, knew she was going into shock. She barely felt any pain, the edges of her vision growing dark as her body grew cold. But she wasn’t ready to die, and Marian didn’t want the last thing she saw before she passed to be the Arishok’s ugly face, sneering at her in victory. “Demand this.” She groaned out, raising her hand, harnessing the last bit of magic she had and slapping her palm against the giant’s forehead and unleashing a lightning bolt strike into his skull.

The light went out, and she fell, off the sword and onto the ground with a wet sound. Different footsteps, hurrying to her side, the cool brush of magic, the pull of abused flesh as the Healing tried to use her battered body to repair itself. Shouts, arguing, bitter liquid shoved against her lips, burning her throat as she swallowed.

“Will she live?” A pause. “Yes.” A different voice. “Good. Keep her stable.” Hands on her forehead, cold metal tips against her cheeks. “I’m sorry.” A warm drop of something hitting her face as she drifted. Fading, in and out as she was lifted and carried, cries for the new Champion following the procession.


End file.
